


Go Home

by Crystallinee



Series: Living Is Your Latest Fashion [1]
Category: Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood, F/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Miscarriage, Sexual Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-08 09:59:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7753234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crystallinee/pseuds/Crystallinee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why did the Joker have baby clothes in his lair? What if Harley lost something other than her Puddin', what if she lost something she never had? When she is going through her darkest times, only he can help her through. Dark. Suicide Squad verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: Works as a counterpart to my other one-shot "Abstinence" to show her perspective of their separation.
> 
> The Usual Disclaimer: This is based on Harley's and Joker's relationship as portrayed in Suicide Squad, which is quite different from the original portrayal in a number of ways. Based on Margot Robbie's Harley Quinn and Jared Leto's Joker.
> 
> You can find the playlist for this story here:  
> http://crystallinee-waters.tumblr.com/post/150602618806/fanfic-playlist-go-home-the-joker-x-harley

  _We laughed at the darkness_  
_So scared that we lost it_  
_So tell me your secrets_  
_I just can't stand to see you leaving_  
 ** _\- Heaven, Beyoncé_**

* * *

 

   
It must have been the car crash.

 After all, the impact had thrown her half-way out the wind shield, leaving her out of breath on the hood while fragments of glass cut into her middle. She didn't feel any pain back then, grasping for the knife hidden underneath her thin dress and lunging at her rescuer. The force of the crash had been enough to throw off even her; she had felt the air pressed out of her as the plum purple car drove into the banister separating the road from the harbor.

After that, she was drifting in and out of a playful state of mind, not really thinking at all. Back and forth, her head was way too crowded. She did not exist, until reality dawned on her with a literal blow to her head and she was back in the hole they called a prison, thick bars and grey walls, heavily armored guards everywhere.

That certain guard was still there, oh how she _hated_ him, that creepy plaything, "Alpha01" written on his armor. When she got out, and she knew she would, he would be the first to taste her gun. She would shove it down his throat and choke him with it. Until then he was her personal devil, but she knew how to dance with them.

He grabbed her scalp and welcomed her back with a grin as he threw her onto the floor again. Harley just couldn't resist fighting back. When she woke up later, she had a faint memory of his hands prying her fingers from his throat. She had laughed at him as he straddled her, all the while trying to bite his face off. He had pushed her thin arms down, reaching for something out of her sight, and then she was screaming.

She had woken up eventually, after floating in and out of consciousness for a while. She was still on the floor, wearing her filthy and torn prison clothes that hardly covered her body anymore. She was too gone to form any coherent thoughts, but the laughter spilled off her lips nevertheless. They must have given her a heavy dose; it was like someone was trying to press her eyelids together.

She waited until the haze lifted.

There was dried blood between her inner thighs. It was way too thick and it lingered on her skin, she smelled like a living corpse. She tasted it, felt the fleshy consistence. It was not fresh, it was _old_ blood. The kind that never comes from open wounds.

Harley sat up slowly, her entire frame trembling as she grasped her stomach. She threw her head back and laughed until she was out of breath, choking on it. The laughter turned into high-pitched wails, it reminded her of a dying dog.

So much blood, it kept coming, as if to taunt her. For a few days she was too exhausted to move at all. She lay on the ground and drifted in and out of a blinding white utopia, even the voices were silent. She reached for _him,_ gasping, and he smiled back at her, a dark, metallic grin. She knew he must be looking for her. He must be wondering where his Harley had gone, and when he realized, he'd come for sure.

If he was here now, this wouldn't happen. Between her legs was the flooding of something that shouldn't be there, something that wasn't _allowed_ to leave her. No, no, no.

Her trip to heaven was interrupted eventually. Wildly throwing her arms and legs around, she tried to take them on, but her entire body fell limp. Meal replacement pumped into her body to keep her alive, the gagging ball in her mouth, the twisting and turning in her bones - she screamed until she couldn't no more. Then she still tried.

The blood was gone all too soon, washed away, gone down the drain. No, she wasn't dying, they couldn't throw her into the backyard dumpster just yet. She was back in her cell again, she and the empty hole in her belly.

Alpha01, or as she dubbed him in her mind, The Boy Band Leader with his gang of scared little boys, gave her new names. Yours Craziness. She was _the_ bitch who sent half of his squad to the intensive care unit just because she was bleeding her guts out. Just to fuck with him, she played along. Next time he entered her cage, she'd be ready.

The missing thing inside of her made her wonder. Harley stared blankly at the thick bars as the days passed by, unmoving, a filthy and defiled angel with a long blanket of hair. It had been _stolen_ from her.

Maybe it wasn't the car crash. It wasn't the first time, after all.

Maybe it was a defect from before she was born, Harleen whispered in the back of her mind. She sounded so close, as if she was sitting beside her on the stained floor.  
Maybe it was because of that time when she was eleven years old and her uncle bruised her during the party, in the dark bedroom.

Or maybe, the most excruciating possibility of them all, it was _his_ _fault_. But if it was, it was hers too. Live fast, die beautiful, that was her motto.

Their first time had been terrifyingly painful and pleasurable, all in one. It happened afterwards; she was still going numb and her vision was blurry, dots appearing and chasing each other in her vision. She couldn't even remember her own name, much less where she was. But she remembered _him,_ and in her deranged state of mind he was a green-haired angel.

After 450 volts frying her brain, she was only happy when Mr J took her on the examination table. She had teased and urged him on, although faintly, laughing all the while. He had moved so roughly on top of her, pounding into her so hard her vision shattered. She had grasped his toned arms on either side of her head and leaned into his bruising kiss. He was pounding her to life again until her consciousness drifted away. His growl and harsh pants in her ear were her lullaby. The warmth in her was the last thing she remembered of that time, her insides filled up.

She had accepted it all so willingly. Who could have known her most deranged and psychopathic patient would be the one claiming her womb in the end? It was all she ever wanted.

But most surely that time, it must have been the chemicals: the acid that bleached her skin and hair. It killed the little lump of cells that had already started growing in her core. He had laughed so heartily and she had laughed with him. Celebrating the death of their little one, the minimal remains corroded away.

Empty. Her fingers grazed her bruised skin, burying her nails into the spot below her naval. Shadows were moving in the edge of her vision now, in the ceiling that consisted of electrified bars, they danced and moved in front of her eyes. She raised one arm and tried to grasp them, but they always got away.

Nothing left. She had had a part of _him_ inside of her. And now he was gone. It was such a long time since she had last seen him; even the hallucinations started fading away. Instead the memories, the only thing not even electroshock could take from her, took over.

_She collapsed in front of the toilet, throwing up her insides. She almost choked on it. Standing on wobbly legs she turned to the sink to wash her face. She noticed how pale her face had become, no makeup in the world could remove that sickly tint._

_The makeup was running, the nausea held her in a death grip. It had been plaguing her for weeks, but she had tried to drown it out with alcohol. It was harder to dance in the club, but she tried her best still. She would do anything to please Mr J._

_She stumbled out of the bathroom. "Puddin'", she called faintly, making her tone as sweet as she could. She tried her very best to put on her usual seductive smile. He looked up at her; he was sharpening his favorite knives, but stopped when he saw her staggering through the door._

_"Yes, Harls?" he replied, a dark undertone in his voice. He didn't like it when she got drunk. She took a step forward but the world caved in on her, she had been awake around the clock. It flashed bright black and white in front of her eyes. His arms caught her before she hit the floor._

If only she was back with him, she'd be good again. She ran towards the electrified bars with a scream, and the scream didn't fade until she was lying on the concrete floor again. She liked the world best when it was just fading from her vision.

_She woke up slowly, dim lights in the ceiling blinding her for a moment. Her throat was burning, it was too thick to swallow. She looked around; she was lying on crumbled up sheets. A glass of water on the nightstand, what the hell was going on?_

_She tried to sit up and she grasped for the white pills beside the glass, popping them all. The door opened and she recognized Mr J's most trusted henchman standing there._

_"Ms Quinn," he began. He usually never spoke to her, something was definitely up. She stared demanding at him. "Where's he?"_

_"He had business to attend to," Jonny Frost replied. "I've been assigned to stay with you."_

_Stay with her? She chuckled. "I don't need no babysitter, honey."_

_She moved up from the bed, noticing she was still wearing the same golden dress as before. She was still a bit unstable on her feet, but got used to it quickly. She looked around for something and smiled when she found her beloved "love/hate" gun on the dresser. She grabbed it and took a quick look in the mirror; she needed a shower._

_Frost knew better than to ever question the Queen, but orders were orders._

_"He said you should stay here. The doctor will be back shortly."_

_The… doctor? Harley froze, gun still in hand. He had brought a doctor? In other words, the doctor must have been brought with the barrel of a gun pressed against his neck._

_"What?" she hissed, almost laughing at the thought. Mr J hated doctors. He had a certain thing for playing Russian roulette with them. Most of all, he would never call for one._

_"You were out for a long time", he replied, poker faced like usual._

_"And what?" she snapped. She noticed he was slightly taken aback, but he did his best not to show it. "What did they say?" She snapped her teeth, not in her usual seductive way, the frustration overtaking._

_A knock on the door. Two henchmen were pushing a struggling woman into the room, one pressing a gun against her back. Jonny Frost nodded his head in her direction. "She'll tell you."_

Sometimes she dreamed. She dreamed that Mr J was there to take her away, she was in his arms again and nothing else mattered. One day he would come and get her for sure.

She would request her Puddin' took special care of the leader though. Alpha01 would have his gray substance shattered across the floor, after kissing the ground at her feet.

The next time the boy group and their leader came for her - _vanilla or strawberry?_ \- she didn't bother teasing them. They thought they had finally broken her.

_Harley shoved the woman to the ground, gun pointing in her face. "Stop fucking around, dollie, or I'll have to correct that brain of yours. Just keep it off my clothes; 'kay? I'll be going out tonight."_

_The doctor stammered: "I-I-I ran some tests on you and it-it- it was positive, I'm sure – "_

_Harley lowered the gun. Wide eyes, her heart beating like a drum in her ears._

_The other hand moved to her stomach. She stood completely still, biting her lips until her mouth was filled with the taste of iron. So she had been the last to know. Everyone else was already in on it._

_She finished the woman off with a quick shot. While the henchmen disposed of her body, Harley remained completely still. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply._

_She felt a smile spreading across her face._

Still limp after the last time the guards had overpowered her, Harley rested on the cold floor. Her mind was trying to stir her awake again, and she slowly moved her dizzy head to glance at the fluorescent lamps high up above.

In her mind, Mr J was carrying her out of the water before Batsy had a chance to take her away. He knew she couldn't swim and while he used to tease her sometimes by pushing her into the water, he would always come for her. He would never let drown.

One day he would be there and set her free. She knew it.

And maybe, she thought and rolled over, then she wouldn't feel empty anymore.

 

_So go on, go home._


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley is going through her darkest time. The Joker has his way of helping her through. For only the devil can defeat the demons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find the playlist for this story here:  
> http://crystallinee-waters.tumblr.com/post/150602618806/fanfic-playlist-go-home-the-joker-x-harley

**Part II**

_And there's no remedy  
For memory  
__Your soul is haunting me_  
_And telling me_  
_That everything is fine_  
_But I wish I was dead_  
**\- Dark Paradise, Lana del Rey**

* * *

 

 There was a new voice in Harley's head.

She was sure she had never encountered it before; it first appeared after she returned from Belle Reve. It must have been with her back then too, but all the voices had been screaming at the same time. From the moment she was shoved into the cage, the constant noise in her head had been drowning out every other thought. The new one had been hiding in the crowd, while the familiar demons went hysteric.

" _Kill them and escape, what are you waiting for?"_

 _"Oh come on."_ It had sounded like Harleen – she had resurfaced like a trashy zombie. " _You worked your way to the top, on your knees. You'll get out; just bend over nicely for that Alpha guard. Put on a show for him."_

At first she had done what they told her to; tripping in her psychosis. But the voices demanded more and they never left her alone.

 _"Haaaaarley - Where's Mr. J?"_ her most hated voice had taunted her, day and night. " _He's left you here to rot. He doesn't care about you. Nobody cares, Harley. You're just a little toy."_

 _SHUT UP! He's going to come, just you wait._ She had screamed at the voices, verbally assaulted them until the guards pumped sedatives into her system. Then they just turned into low background chatter.

It had been impossible to make out that new voice. But it had made its presence known sometimes: a whimper in the back of her mind, a loud cry. A ringing in her ears, like a lost child crying for his mommy. Shutting them out all together meant shutting down her consciousness, so she had slammed her head hard against the metal bars until they fell quiet.

***

Her days in hell were over. Mr. J had shown up, just as she knew he would. He had power-sawed his way into her cell and carried her off into the artificial sunset. She was free. She was home. She was going to find her smile again, that was buried deep somewhere in this rubble, a mountain of dust of death.

She had been caught up in the bliss and excitement of being with him again. She could push everything else away, bury the memories so deep she could never reach them again. She was hell-bent on just erasing everything. No past. No reflections. She was wild and free and living her life with Mr. J.

But the things crawling in her subconscious eventually emerged. A week after her return to freedom, the new voice had spoken to her for the first time.

The voice called itself Baby.

It was not a baby's voice; it was an adult, fierce and cold. Harley stared at herself in the bathroom mirror, as if she was waiting for it to make a physical appearance. Nothing happened. It was just her, alone, wearing another sparkling dress, make up and dyed curls, expensive golden jewelry. The queen of crime had returned, a bit scarred, but nevertheless intact.

For once the other voices kept quiet, but Baby talked.

_"Haaaarley… Do you remember me?"_

_You're not my baby_ , she argued back aggressively. _Babies are for normal people. Not for us._

 _"I'm yours,"_ it replied casually, and it threw her completely off guard.

Electricity had wiped out so many parts of her life and left a glaring blank space, but this one was firmly stuck. Mr. J's baby. It brought back the memories she had been trying to suppress: the void in her belly, the blood that just kept coming and coming. Her white hands covered in a sticky mess, pieces of flesh. Nausea hit her hard and she crouched on the floor.

_"You liked Mr. J to throw you onto the floor hard, didn't you? Remember those pills? The drinks?"_

Harley stared with wide eyes in front of her. She shook her head slowly.  
_  
"You're not getting rid of me so easily. I live inside of you. "_

"Leave me alone! Go! Go away!" She stumbled forward, violently trying to shake the voice out of her mind, grasping onto anything she found, pulling her hair, overturning bottles with perfume and make up. The same part of her that accused her squad mate so fiercely was onto her now. What an ironic twist of fate.

_"You killed me. Own it. Own it."_

Harley crouched into a ball on the floor, hearing herself laugh, loudly, shakily. Louder and louder, she laughed. A part of her was terrified, afraid to be alone again. That's when the voices usually came, to keep her company in the dark.

A long while later and she was still not aware of anything but the cold floor against her face. The bathroom door was open. Nothing else had changed. She heard Mr. J's closest henchmen discussing what to do with her.

Mr. J would not be back until tomorrow. Maybe something was really up, because the henchmen decided to call someone. She didn't know the name of the guy, the one who assisted Mr. J the most, he seemed scared.

The bearded man kneeled by her side. Concern on his face. "Do you need a doctor, miss Quinn?"

She giggled at his funny face, staring up at the ceiling. It swayed back and forth. Her teeth chattered loudly and turned her giggles into choked sobs.

He was still hovering above her and she blinked, trying to focus. The man talked to someone over her head, discussing her. He talked quickly in a hushed tone. She tried to move her head, get away. The light was so bright. Still, her body refused to move, as if she was glued to the floor.

After a while she heard other steps, rushed, a voice snarling:

_"Where's she?"_

"She was in there alone, we found her when we heard her screaming -" A violent sound, like a body slamming against a surface. A deep growl, someone whimpered in pain.

"She's not hurt," the man from before said quickly. "No one else has been there. No one's touched her. I swear, boss."

"I will hold you to that, Frost," the dark voice growled and there was another sound of a body hitting something hard. "I told you to watch her." His voice was hard and sharp, forceful like a bullet. It broke through the haze, but she was tired.

The steps approached, the door was ripped of its hinges, and she closed her eyes, just as a slap to her face brought her to alertness.

Mr. J's face was in her vision now, hovering just above her, she could feel his breath. She smiled. Smiled only for him, spread out on the bathroom floor, her skin full of imprints from her nails, her dress torn. Bruised and eyes almost rolling back into her head, the strong smell of spilled perfumes soaking her hair.

She heard him take a deep breath through his teeth. "Harley," he said darkly, "Come on now." His hands were on her body, lifting her up into his arms. She felt her head fall limply against his shoulder. He was there, and his voice was the only one that meant something.

*  
*

That very night, the dreams returned. The blood was back between her legs. Dark, _dead_. A small fetus in her hands, a tiny body that fit in her palm, veins glowing through the translucent skin. Flashes of something that could have been, a child's laughter, blue eyes. Something that would never be.

Harley screamed when she woke up, so loudly it even unsettled Mr. J. She screamed, not knowing why. The part of her brain that should know why had disconnected, she only remained screaming. Why didn't she wake up?

She ended up curling up against a corner in the room, her legs against her chest. Her nails scratched at her skin until it bled, trying to rip the skin off her face.

Harley Quinn did not cry. Not in her entire second life had she ever shed a tear. But she knew. Her body was not meant for hosting another life. She was the queen of destruction and devastation; she had stared death in the face and laughed. She had chosen life over death. A life with the Joker.

Living for him meant giving up on all other life. Nothing could grow and prosper in dead soil. Chemicals had burned everything down, left an artificial existence.

Mr. J approached her calmly as she curled into herself. He pulled her into her arms again, his fingers leaving imprints on her face, wiping the blood away. He would fight her demons for her. He knew them too well; he was not afraid. He was fearless in the dark.

When he slipped her the familiar pink pill, she accepted it greedily.

She swallowed it, felt it slip through her dry throat. He lifted her up and placed her on the bed, and then the cold air surrounded her when he disappeared from her sight. Her entire body trembled with coldness. Her muscles went numb and the crowd in her head fell silent. The only thing left was his face. He was her life line, her only way out.

Harley let her head fall back, her entire body slack as the exhaustion spread through her. She couldn't see the equipment in his hands when he returned, but she knew what was to come.

The gel covered paddles were placed on her temples, and soon she was immersed in her dark paradise; the only relief. Harley spread her arms, stuck in her happy place. The strong currents of electricity shut her body down, cell by cell, a numb, painless state overtaking her. A pressure in her head that was so strong, she had to give in. Her body jolted, seizures followed and he turned up the voltage. Her muscles contracting, shaking, trembling, and then… nothing.

Darkness. It was different from the electrifying sensations that spun blue patterns across her eyelids, it was different from pain. It was nothing.

Afterwards, when she was slipping out of consciousness, she felt him pulling her closer. She was numb and slack in his arms, he held her so tight. The voices were forced to silence. He kissed her, she was almost gone, the pill on his tongue entering her mouth.

She drifted out and in of consciousness the following day and night. Sometimes she would wake up, but he was always there, forcing her to sleep again. Another pill and she was free. When she was too tired to take them, he would hold her head up, place it in her mouth and force her to swallow. It twisted her stomach, but everything was quiet. Blissful.

One time she woke up and he was sitting by her head, his scarred hand absentmindedly stroking her face. His cold fingers were soothing; she pressed her face against them.

Her hands had moved down in her sleep, resting loosely over her belly. She noticed how his gaze rested on that very spot.

Tears suddenly ran down her face, down her neck. They just kept coming and he leaned against the headboard of the bed, still watching her. One of his fingers smeared the tears over her cheeks, softly, away from her eyes as he gave her the next pill.

They stayed like that as her eyelids grew heavy again; she saw more pills in the palm of his hand. He never slept; like a dark angel of the night he watched her for any sign of alertness, ready to push her down again. His very presence kept her safe. She must go deeper, deeper down.

He had told her once. The only way to reach freedom is to go all the way to the bottom. He had already mastered that step, long ago.

It was those hours of her life that were the most blissful and the most painful. The dark room, his presence. She could let herself go, when she slipped down deeply enough. She could finally cut the voices off. As if they had been rooted to her head like metallic threads, they were suddenly soft like grass and easy to rip off. She was alone in the dark space, just her and whomever she wanted, in the entire world.

"Baby," she croaked.

No reply. Baby was gone.

"Come back," she demanded, voice hoarse.

No one could reach her when she was floating in the dark space, no one could see her or touch her. For the first time she was afraid she would not find the way back to the surface, the vast space was sucking her in like a black hole.

It was quiet. Then the voices tuned in, one by one, quietly. They were all there, waiting for her.

"I want you!" she screamed.

" _It's not here anymore_ ," someone said. _"It went home."_

Home?

" _It went home_."

A searing pain pulled her back to the surface, she was not alone anymore. The Joker was there, his dark eyes set on her, a thousand emotions in them. Harley just stared at him as he gave her the very last pill. One of his hands held onto her firmly. He watched her as she brought it past her chapped lips, it melted on her tongue and it was complete.

"Do you feel it?" he asked her. "I can hear them, emerging…"

He suddenly gave her a light smile, a hint of anticipation in his eyes. Harley reached up and touched his face, he was real. She smiled back at him, tiredly, and his lips stretched wider. "You'll soon see, Harls. I can't wait for you to wake up again."

"Really?" She couldn't tear her gaze off his face, hardly comprehending how much she had missed it.

"Yes," he purred, leaning down and kissing her deeply. His hands traveled her body, down to her lower abdomen. She was once again slipping away into darkness, but she heard his voice clearly.

"Your little friends say such interesting things when you're asleep. I wish you could hear them, too."

"What?" she slurred. Her vision was fading, she fell back into warm unconsciousness, but he was close to her, whispering in her ear.

"Baby's back."

*

*

*

She woke up much later, daylight filtering into the room. Mr. J was nowhere to be seen, she was alone. Harley looked around, hazily, her entire body stiff from being immobile for so long. In the bed, among the messy sheets, were some strange garments. Had he left clothes for her? She slowly sat up, head spinning.

He had kept a great deal of things that he had collected in her absence. She had noticed the large amounts of photos and newspaper articles of her that he kept lying around. It was one of the things she found most flattering; she loved his serial killer obsession. She smiled to herself.

Beside her on the pillow, someone had carefully laid out two baby onesies, one black and one purple. Harley took one of the little suits and held it up. It would fit a small infant.

The realization that had been kept from her by her own treacherous mind came over her.

Tears filled her eyes and overflowed, as her smile grew wider. "You're going to have so much fun with us."

 

_**Fin.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have written a sequel to this, called "Life and Death", which continues from this point onward.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think.


End file.
